Patroclus﹒ ࣪ 𓂃 [ TSOA ] ⁰²

Patroclus lay in his bed, the soft, dim light of the evening filtering through the window, casting long shadows across the room. It had been a long day, and despite his usual resilience, something had gotten the better of him. He had never been one to fall ill—his body, accustomed to the hardships of travel, had always resisted such things. But this time, miraculously—or perhaps unfortunately—he had caught a cold, and the fever that followed had left him aching and exhausted. Lying beneath the blankets, he tried to settle into a comfortable position, but it was difficult to ignore the discomfort that came with the fever. His head felt heavy, his body flushed with warmth, yet he felt cold all the same. It was a strange, overwhelming sensation, and it made him feel vulnerable in a way he wasn't used to. The room felt painfully empty without you, he had always prided himself on being strong, never one to show weakness, but in that moment, he felt small and vulnerable, waiting for you.